


Cause of death: Science

by CreeperEyes



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:39:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5499047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreeperEyes/pseuds/CreeperEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Work in progress. Takes place in season 2 episode 2.</p><p>Walt and Jesse are forced to spend quality time with Tuco against their will. Jesse ends up bonding with Tuco over a game of Mario Party, but Walt is still determined to kill him. Unfortunately for Walt, he sucks at murder.</p><p> <br/>This fic is silly and not to be taken seriously, but I tried to keep everyone in character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm altering canon a bit here. In this story, Walt and Jesse have already met Saul by this point. Perhaps someone saw them trying to dispose of Krazy 8 and they needed to get a lawyer, so they called Saul.

Walt wondered just how it had come to this. Six weeks ago, he’d been diagnosed with lung cancer. In the five weeks since then, he’d started cooking meth with one of his underachieving former students, blown up some douchebag’s car just because he felt like it, already had two murders to his name and had cleaned up the results of a corpse disposal mishap.

And now, he and Jesse had been kidnapped by Tuco, the same bipolar, metal toothed drug dealer they had been selling to just two days ago. He wasn’t sure why the man suddenly turned against him, but he made a mental note never to deal to mentally ill people ever again. To say that Tuco was a sane, stable person would be a lie of grandiose proportions. Even when he wasn’t jacked up on meth, he was the type to beat the shit out of someone (sometimes literally) then casually ask them if they wanted to see a movie with him later that day.

These are the things Walt thought about as he, along with Jesse, was lead at gunpoint into some dilapidated, non code compliant house in the middle of the desert. He had no idea where they were, was still a bit sore from being crammed into the trunk of Jesse’s car for hours, and he was well aware of the fact that he could be used as target practice at any given moment. Not only that, but Tuco had swiped the gun Jesse had bought to protect himself.

Despite these unpleasant circumstances, Walt wasn’t overly concerned. He didn’t need a gun to turn the tables. His captor wasn’t going to make it out of the desert alive, he would make sure of it.

He, Walter Hartwell White, was going to kill Tuco with science. He had killed a man with science a few weeks ago, so he could easily do it again. It was a plan that was definitely deserving of Jesse’s “Yeah, Mr. White! Yeah science!” line.

The captive pair were lead into the house, which wasn’t a whole not nicer inside. The bare walls looked like they hadn’t been painted in decades, and all the furniture was threadbare. There was an elderly, crippled, and wheelchair bound man parked in front of the tv. He had a bell on the right arm of his wheelchair and was completely invested in the piss poor Mexican soap opera that was playing.

Walt didn’t really know what to do, so he sat down on the beat up sofa and took in his environment. It was a step up from Jesse’s aunt’s basement, but not by a lot.

“Well, this is definitely a...rather modest place you’ve got here.” He said as an insult disguised as a compliment.

He really wasn’t in a position to judge the interior decorating of someone else’s home, as his own house boasted some of the ugliest pieces in New Mexico. Those weird plates on the wall? That ugly glass light above his dining room table? He had picked those out himself, but always told other people that Skyler had chosen them.

Tuco repeatedly prodded Jesse in the ass with the end of his semi automatic rifle to herd him over to the sofa.

“Okay! For fuck’s sake, you don’t have to get all homo on me, alright?” Jesse protested. Normally he would have added a “Bitch!” to the end of his sentence, but he was wise enough to refrain. In this scenario, he was the bitch and he knew it. Defeated, he sat down a short distance from Walt.

“Please tell me you’ve got that stuff we made.” he said as quietly as he could.

“Jesse, the fact that you could even think I forgot that is simply insulting.” Walt replied. “To answer your question, yes I have it. We just need to wait for the right time.”

Judging by the deteriorating mental state of their captor, that time was quickly approaching.

Tuco was manically ranting and raving that all of his lackeys had been killed or arrested except for Gonzo, which could only mean that his body guard had been the one that tipped off the DEA to his whereabouts. To him, that was the only logical explanation. Nothing else could even be considered a remote possibility.

“I’ll stab him! I’ll stab his stupid face!” he stabbed the tile counter with his meth carving knife and some tiny bits of porcelain cracked off.

“So... you’re saying that Gonzo is a police informant?” Walt spoke up. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He was completely unprepared for what happened next.

Tuco ceased stabbing the countertop and looked up at him. Then, without warning, he straight up started sobbing and crying like a schoolgirl who just got dumped by her boyfriend.

“How could he do this to me?! Me and Gonzo, we went way back! We went way back! I thought he was my friend!”

Walt shifted uncomfortably. Thanks to Hank’s screwing off while on duty, he had a picture of Gonzo’s corpse on his phone. He wasn’t a religious man, but if he was, he’d be praying to every god in existence that Tuco wouldn’t find it.

“Gonzo was my best friend! We grew up together. I thought we were tight, homies for life! Then he pulls this shit!” Tuco put his head down on the counter and sobbed to himself.

Walt and Jesse exchanged glances.

“We should just bumrush him, yo. Two against one.” Jesse suggested.

“He has two guns on him! He also has a knife in his hand!” Walt countered.

“So? He’s crying like a little bitch. We can take him by surprise.”

“What about the old man?”

“What about him? The dude’s like, a thousand years old! He probably doesn’t even know what planet he’s living on. He can’t do anything to stop us.”

“No. We can’t risk it, Jesse. We need to get him to take the ricin.” 

“How fast does it work?”

“It depends on the person, but on average, the profuse vomiting and organ failure sets in pretty quickly.”

“So, he’s going to barf himself to death?”

“That sounds about right.”

“Oh, yeah. Like that won’t look suspicious at all!”

The two of them delved into one of their frequent arguments and failed to notice that Tuco was back in drug distributor mode and was rolling the old man towards them. He glared at them impatiently.

Walt and Jesse ignored him and continued squabbling.

Tuco slammed his knife down onto the table, making them both jump. 

“I will not be ignored in my own house! My house, my rules!” he shouted.

When he was sure he had their attention, he elaborated and motioned towards the twitchy elderly guy.

“This is my Tio, Hector. He’s one of the only people I trust right now. The question is...” he leaned over them in a menacing fashion, aiming his knife at their throats. “Can I trust you?”

“Y-yeah man. We’re cool.” Jesse stuttered. He tried to hide how much he was panicking by trying to appear indifferent to the situation.

On the other hand, Walt just gave a small smirk, prepped one of his trademark Walter White lies and looked the psychotic Mexican right in the eye.

“Tuco, you can definitely trust me. I’m a very honest, trustworthy guy. If anything, I’m _too_ honest. My wife says it’s one of my biggest faults. If I was going to try something, I’d already be dead.”

“You’re saying I can trust you, Heisenberg?”

“Yes, absolutely. I’m on your side.”

“Prove it.”


	2. chapter 2

“Prove it? Is my word not enough?” Walt blinked in disbelief. By this point, he was so used to people just eating up his lies that he fully expected them to work on everyone.

“How can I be sure you’re being straight with me? If you want me to trust you, you have to prove it to me.” Tuco was staring directly at Walt and it was making him a bit nervous.

“Come on, we’re all doing illegal things here. Why would I turn you in and risk bringing myself down? What do I need to do to prove this to you?”

Tuco reclined in his chair and thought for a moment.

“Give my Tio a bath.”

Walt’s face paled at that idea, while Jesse snickered at his misfortune. He had to personally bathe and groom that old bag of bones? No way. He wouldn’t do it. There had to be a secondary option.

“Isn’t there anything else? Does it have to be that?”

“He needs a bath, Heisenberg! It’s been two days!”

“Two days? That’s nothing. I often go three or four days without a shower, and I know many other people who do the same.” Walt admitted.

Tuco looked horrified. Appearance was extremely important to him and he couldn’t bear the thought of going a day without bathing. He was also known as the most metrosexual drug lord in the ABQ area, as he coordinated his outfits and even his dental grills. A regular silver grill would do for going to the grocery store or running mundane errands, but deals, meetings with potential customers and date nights all called for the super flashy diamond encrusted ones.

He walked over to Hector, who was still engrossed in the tv. “Okay Tio, you’re getting a bath, courtesy of Heisenberg.”

Hector scowled and swatted his nephew away.

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” Tuco complained. 

Hector just scowled at him again.

Tuco sighed and rolled his eyes. “Do you want to go ANOTHER day without a bath? Do you want to watch your soaps while sitting in your own filth? Is that what you want?”

_Ding._

“Fine, be that way. But you ARE getting a bath before we leave.”

Walt let out a sigh as well, but his was from relief instead of annoyance. He was fine with seeing the effects his product had on his customers, he could tolerate his chemotherapy, and he was even cool with cleaning up a liquified human corpse. However, bathing an old man who was probably incontinent crossed the line of things he simply couldn’t bear to do.

“I think he’s made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want a bath. Is there anything else I could do to prove that I’m a worthy business partner?” Walt questioned.

“There is.” Tuco said. “I will trust you completely if...” he looked at Jesse and gave a smile that showed all of his silver teeth. “If _he_ kisses me, _with tongue_ , for a minimum of five minutes.”

“No! No fucking way!” Jesse recoiled in disgust, but quickly began stammering over his words when Tuco gave him a death glare. “L-look man, it’s not you, it’s me alright? I’m not into dudes. Like, at all. I like chicks, yo. But-but if I DID like dudes, you’d totally be my type.”

He turned towards Walt to apologize. “Sorry Mr. White. Looks like you’ll be giving the cryptkeeper a bath after all.”

Walt pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed audibly to himself.

He and Jesse were then commanded to bring out the rocks and empty their pockets. Two wallets, two phones, seven bags of their specialized blue meth, and the small bag of the ricin laced batch were laid out on the coffee table.

Tuco noticed the ricin meth immediately. “What’s that?”

“That,” Walt beamed proudly, “Is a new product we’ve been working on. It’s got a bit of a kick to it. Some heat, if you will. Go ahead, try it. I would love to have your opinion on it.”

He nudged the bag across the table. Tuco inspected it incredibly carefully for several minutes, looking rather skeptical of it.

“Don’t worry about the purity. Mr. White nailed it. I tried some, and trust me, that shit is the bomb!” Jesse piped up with a bit too much enthusiasm. Enthusiasm which could easily be taken as suspicious behavior.

Walt glared at his partner to try and shut him up. Subtly had never been Jesse’s strong point. Wether the two of them lived or died depended on Jesse staying quiet and doing as he is told. If he said the wrong thing or acted out, their entire plan would collapse.

“Jesse, what have I told you about smoking our product?” Walt warned, his voice low.

“Uh, don’t do it.” Jesse answered, a little confused as to why Walt was suddenly lecturing him.

“Exactly! You don’t get high on your own supply, Jesse! Respect the chemistry!” Walt scolded.

Finally, after a tense few minutes, Tuco opened the bag and sniffed its contents. Unfortunately, the hope Walt and Jesse had was shattered when he made a face of disgust.

“What the fuck is this? It smells terrible!”

“Well, it’s...it’s a work in progress.” Walt said.

“This stuff is NOT tight. It’s loose. Loose butthole!” Tuco rejected the bag.

Walt raised a brow. “Loose butthole?”

“Yo, Mr. White. You’ve never seen Workaholics?” Jesse asked in disbelief.

“Actually, yes. I’ve seen Workaholics. My son watches it. It’s a bunch of sophomoric nonsense if you ask me.” Walt replied.

“It’s awesome! I love Workaholics!” Tuco added.

“Yeah! See, this guy gets it.” Jesse said.

Walt was not about to let his new product go untested, so he tried once again to convince the volatile distributor to try it.

“I know it smells weird, but you’ll have to take Jesse’s word on this. Think of how amazing my blue meth makes you feel, then amplify it by ten. That’s what this does.” he explained. Jesse nodded in fake agreement.

“You said it has a kick. What is it?” Tuco questioned.

“Chili powder.” Jesse informed. It was the truth, as they had added a pinch of chili powder to it.

“I hate chili powder.” Tuco dropped the bag back into the table.

“Huh. I quite like it myself.” Walt said in one last desperate attempt to change the man’s mind.

“You think I like that shit just because I’m Mexican? This may surprise you, but I’m more than a cliche stereotype, you uncultured prick.” Tuco sneered at Walt.

“Yeah, uh, we were just going off of things that we like. I like spicy things. Like spicy Cheetos. And flaming Funions! Those things are the best.” Jesse said.

“How are you alive? How can you eat that shit?” Tuco asked.

Jesse’s mouth hung open in shock. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How was it even possible for someone to not like those godly snacks? Without thinking about his actions or what would happen because of them, he stood up, got right up in Tuco’s face and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“You did _not_ just diss Cheetos and Funions, BITCH!”

Tuco stared at Jesse for a fraction of a second before erupting into maniacal laughter.

Jesse’s eyes widened and his heart nearly stopped from panic. In about half a second, he was really going to regret speaking out of line. The last time he had heard that laugh, he had witnessed a man get savagely beaten to death.

Thankfully, there was no malicious intent behind it this time.

“You know what? I think I like you, kid. I used to think you were just some little bitch, but you’re alright.” Tuco said.

Jesse laughed nervously. “I told you. I’m cool. Mr. White is cool. We want to do business with you. Make those fat stacks yo.”

“Speaking of business,” Walt chimed in, “what exactly is the plan? I like to know what’s going to happen in the near future so I can prepare myself and organize everything.”

“My cousins will be taking us to Mexico tomorrow. We’re all spending the night here.” Tuco explained.

“Great! A slumber party!” Walt said with extreme sarcasm. “Are Jesse and I supposed to just sleep on the floor like dogs?”

“Jesse can have the guest bedroom, but where you sleep isn’t my problem.”

Walt was aghast. “Why does Jesse get the bedroom?! I’m the one you actually need!”

Tuco shrugged. “I trust him. I don’t know about you though. I’ve got my eye on you.”

“Jesus christ Tuco, we have been over this! I am on your side! I want to cook methamphetamine for you to sell! How clear do I need to make myself? Do I need to spell it out for you?” 

“You have two options, Heisenberg. Pick one.”

Walt shuddered in horror at the very thought of option A, which left only one other thing.

“Jesse, will you please just grow a pair of balls and kiss Tuco so we can move on? Jesse?” Walt called.

When he didn’t receive an answer, he looked beside him and saw that Jesse had gotten up and moseyed over to the tv. He had opened the cabinet beneath it and took something out of it.

“Yeah, bitch! Mario Party 2!” he exclaimed and held the game cartridge over his head, delighted with his discovery.

Jesse loved the Mario Party games, especially the second one. Back home, he enjoyed getting together with Badger and Skinny Pete to play a couple games of Mario Party. It was even better to play while high.

He rummaged through the cabinet and withdrew the Nintendo 64 console along with three controllers. They were the transparent ones where you could see all the electrical components inside.

“Anyone want to play?” he asked, sincerely hoping the answer would be yes. “Playing games together could help us, like bond and stuff.”

Walt groaned. Jesse wanted him to _bond_ with a psychopathic drug kingpin? That wasn’t why he was here. He was here to commit murder, and that was that. He wasn’t leaving until Tuco was deceased, and he was fully prepared to kill the old man as well if he needed to. That was the plan that they had agreed to before they got kidnapped. He had gone through the trouble of preparing the ricin, and now Jesse had apparently decided that it would be better if the three of them were best friends. Not only that, but the very mention of the word bond brought back dreadful memories of the ‘talking pillow.’

Jesse set up the console, plugged in the controllers and looked at the others expectantly. “Come on, I don’t want to play by myself. Doesn’t anyone else want to play?”

“Hell yeah! I’m down. I call Wario!” Tuco exclaimed. He took the red controller and sat down next to Walt.

“Sure, why not?” Walt forced a smile.

“Yes!” Jesse was overjoyed. He picked up the green controller and tossed the blue one to Walt. “Mr. White, catch!”

Jesse didn’t have very good aim. Instead of landing in Walt’s hands, the controller got looped around Tuco’s neck. 

The instant Walt saw this, he was on the attack. He yanked on the cord as hard as he could in a futile effort to choke the other man to death. It was not successful. Either the cords were way too soft and slack or he was weaker than he thought he was, because he didn’t seem to be inflicting much damage. Tuco threw Walt off and looked at him in annoyance.

“What the FUCK is your problem, Heisenberg?!” he demanded. 

“Uh,” Walt stammered. His mind went into overdrive trying to conceive a believable lie. “I..I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I kind of, uh, lost my mind for a second there. It’s a side effect of my treatment.”

Before things could escalate, Jesse wedged himself between the two. “You guys both need to chill out. Let’s just relax and play Mario Party, okay?”

“Okay. I am calm. We can play now.” Walt said.

Tuco narrowed his eyes at Walt and remained tense. He was ready to stab Walt the second he thought the other man was up to something, but turned towards the tv. He chose the Horror Land board and then chose Wario as his playable character.

Jesse chose Yoshi. While he wouldn’t admit it, he thought that Yoshi in a wizard costume was the cutest thing ever.

“Who do I want to be?” Walt thought out loud. “I think I’ll be Luigi.” Walt saw a lot of himself in Luigi. Luigi being overshadowed by Mario reminded him a lot of his relationship with Gretchen and Elliot.

Before they could begin their game, Hector rang his bell and summoned Tuco over to his chair. Tuco asked him several questions in Spanish, and got a ding in response to the last one.

He got up, stalked over to Walt, yanked the controller out of his hands, deselected Luigi and selected Peach instead.

“Tio wants you to be Princess Peach instead.”

“I don’t suppose I get any say in this?” Walt questioned.

“You don’t.” 

Walt scoffed to himself. “Maybe Princess Peach is actually the best character.”

The game didn’t go well for Walt. He didn’t win many of the mini games, and Tuco was being a dick and kept stealing his stars and coins. Jesse was at least nice enough to only steal from DK, the computer controlled character. Despite that, DK still ended up winning, and Walt finished in last place with a sad total of 31 coins and no stars.

As unpleasant as that was, he still preferred it to the talking pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the old Mario Party games, and I enjoy the show Workaholics. However, I do NOT like Cheetos or Funions.


	3. chapter 3

By the time they finished their game, the sun was beginning to set. Walt would have enjoyed watching the sun disappear behind the horizon if it wasn’t for his current situation.

He had tried to murder Tuco several more times since his last attempt (he had even managed to trick him into sticking a fork into an outlet) but surprisingly, every single attempt failed so spectacularly that they came across as bizarre coincidences instead of botched murder attempts. Truthfully, Walt just plain sucked at committing murder.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Tuco had really taken a liking to Jesse over the past couple hours, and Jesse had completely changed his mind about wanting to kill him. He was elated to have a new drug buddy, and the two of them had engaged in a lengthy conversation about why Star Wars was better than Star Trek in every possible way with the sole exception of that atrocious Jar Jar Binks character. Jesse had recorded their conversation and fully intended on showing it to Badger when he got home. Star Wars was just _better_ , period.

Walt, on the other hand, was now considered code reddish orange on the suspicion meter. Hector kept giving him weird and disapproving looks, which had set Tuco on high alert. Walt knew he was walking on paper thin ice, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. He had been about to, but that was before he had been presented with the perfect opportunity to use the ricin.

Jesse and Hector were in the den watching Wheel Of Fortune, but Tuco was by himself in the kitchen making food for everybody. When the food was ready, he would need to bring Hector to the table, and in that small window of time Walt would utilize the poison.

The food would probably be done soon, so Walt set murder plan J into effect. He picked up the bag of ricin infused meth and pretended to admire its purity.

“Amazing. 98.6% purity. I still can’t believe it.” he quietly mused to himself as he discreetly hid it up his sleeve.

He walked over to the dining room table and sat down to wait, observing his target as he did so.

Tuco had been unusually quiet for the past twenty minutes and seemed very unfocused, which didn’t bode well with Walt. Something was definitely up, and Walt had a hunch that it had to do with him. He had been the cause of more than a little drama lately.

About ten minutes later, Tuco brought four burritos and four glasses of soda to the table. Walt received a tepid, off brand cola while everyone else got classic Coke. When he was positive no one was looking, he dumped the ricin into Tuco’s drink and hid the empty bag in one of his pockets. He then preoccupied himself with examining the food before him and taking a bite to avoid rousing further suspicions. It was alright, definitely better than the crap Taco Bell passes off as edible, but it wasn’t quite restaurant worthy. 

Once everyone was assembled at the table, Walt eagerly awaited for his plan to be set in motion. Jesse wolfed his food down and already had seconds on his mind, but Tuco didn’t touch his. He looked rather unwell. Come to think of it, he definitely looked like he had ingested something he shouldn’t have. He made a groaning noise and put his head in his hands.

Since the ricin hadn’t been consumed yet, Walt was a bit puzzled by this and investigated. “Aren’t you going to eat that?”

Tuco didn’t look up at him. “I feel like _shit_.”

He nudged his plate towards Jesse, who eagerly swiped the burrito and ate it in about three bites.

“You should drink that Coke then. Coke helps to soothe an upset stomach. You’ll feel better, trust me.” Walt encouraged.

Hector glared at Walt and rang his bell. 

Walt felt a pang of panic, as he wasn’t sure if he had been discovered or if the old man was screwing with him. Perhaps it was both. He casually looked at Tuco, who was holding the glass of tainted Coke but not drinking any of it. _Just drink it already. Come on, just fucking drink it!_ Walt thought to himself.

Tuco took one sip of the Coke, but then he suddenly retched and puked on the table, making both Walt and Jesse jump in surprise. He got up from the table and made it about five steps before dropping to his knees and heaving up a fountain of chunks.

Jesse was alarmed and looked at Walt in horror. Did that bald bastard seriously use the ricin when only an hour ago it had been agreed upon that it would not be used?

As all this was happening, a gleam of light reflecting off of the steak knife on the counter caught Walt’s eye. On to plan K. Slit Tuco’s throat from behind, snuff Hector, and be prepared for an emotional outburst from Jesse.

He was so focused on the knife that he didn’t watch his step. He slipped in the puke, fell backwards in a comical fashion and landed in it, making a face of disgust as he registered just what he was laying in. He was laying flat on his back in front of Tuco, who was kneeling beside him. A noise that sounded like a duck with a dry cough met his ears, and he realized that Hector was laughing at him. Or trying to, at least.

“You think this is funny?!” Walt snapped.

Hector smirked sadistically and rang his bell repeatedly. 

_Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!_

Tuco delighted his uncle even more by copiously throwing up all over Walt three times in a row.

When Walt first decided to start cooking meth, he knew he’d be thrust head first into many foreign and unfamiliar situations. He hadn’t been at it very long, but he had already checked several things off the list.

Manufactured an illegal drug and gotten involved in the distribution process of said drug? Check.  
Lied constantly to family about my illegal activities? Check.  
Committed murder? Check.  
Gotten puked on by the dealer distributing my product? Check.

Walt took a deep breath, wiped barf from his face and cleaned off his glasses before speaking. “Tuco, I seem to recall hearing that’s considered bad manners to throw up on your guests.” he began. “I mean really. The sink is right there! There is a bucket two feet from you! Of all the places to throw up, you seem to think that I am the best receptacle! What is wrong with you?!”

Jesse couldn’t control himself and laughed hysterically at Walt’s fate. To be fair, Walt did kind of deserve it, as he hadn’t exactly been that nice to Jesse during their partnership.

“It’s nice to know I have so many supporters.” Walt said sarcastically. He got up and glanced down at himself in despair. His favorite green button up shirt was ruined. He looked at Tuco, who was now bracing himself against the fridge with one hand and clutching his stomach with the other.

“I was rather fond of that shirt, you know. My wife bought it for me on my forty third birthday.” Walt explained.

Tuco glared at Walt. “What did you do, Walter?” he asked in a dangerous tone.

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“What did you do? Did you poison me?!”

Walt pretended to be offended. “Wow! Do you really think I would attempt to kill you when I have made it crystal clear that I have no such intentions? It sounds like you just have a problem with me.”

“I do have a problem with you. I don’t trust you. Tio says you’re up to something, and he doesn’t lie. He doesn’t lie!”

“Your Tio is a senile old man who probably doesn’t know what decade he’s living in. Jesse, ask him what year it is.”

Jesse, who had been watching the last several minutes with great amusement, turned towards Hector and began asking him a series of questions.

“Is it 1799? No? Is it 2058? How about 1950? 4 BC? Is it...2006?” he rambled as he conjured up random numbers.

Hector contorted his face, thought for a few seconds and rang his bell, confirming that it was 2006.

Walt smiled triumphantly. “That’s wrong. It’s not 2006, it’s 2007. There, proof that the man doesn’t know what year it is.” he gloated. He turned around and was just about to exit the kitchen to clean himself off when he felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head. He nearly shat himself at this. He may be dying of lung cancer, but that didn’t mean he wanted to end up face down in a ditch with a bullet in his head.

“I don’t trust you. Tio doesn’t trust you. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.” Tuco threatened.

Despite his fear, Walt was still able to find his next words.

“Because I am the only person on the planet who knows how to make Blue Sky. You kill me, your supply of my product will run dry in just a few days. If you can’t give your customers what they want, they’ll find someone else who can.”

“Bullshit. I bet Jesse knows, and if he could show my guys how to cook it, I have no use for you.”

“Jesse is an idiot who can’t do anything right!” Walt blurted in a moment of panic.

Jesse gave Walt double middle fingers. “Fuck you! Is that any way to speak about your partner?”

“Quit lying, Walter!” Tuco ordered. “Stop lying and tell me the truth. Tio doesn’t lie, ever! Tell me what you did! Tell me ev-” he cut himself off and paused, then doubled over and gagged before he could finish his sentence. Still keeping his gun trained on Walt, he backed away, turned around and puked again, though he made it to the sink this time.

Walt and Jesse awkwardly watched as Tuco threw up a vast quantity of stomach acid for the next several minutes. When he was done, he rested his head on the edge of the sink as he regained his composure. Despite knowing that it might not be a good idea, Jesse reached out and touched his shoulder.

“You okay?” 

“Do I look okay?!” Tuco snapped. “That asshole, that PIECE OF SHIT poisoned me!” he aimed his gun at Walt again.

“No! Listen to me! I did not poison you! How would I even do that?!” Walt put his hands up and shrunk back against the counter. “I swear on my mother’s grave, I am not lying to you right now. YOU are the one who made the food, so how would I put poison in it? Hmm? Explain that to me, I’d love to hear it!” 

Tuco seemed to consider this, but didn’t lower his gun. For all he knew, Walt was still spouting lies in the face of death. The man had a tremendous ego and an insane amount of pride.

Jesse kept his eyes trained on both of them. If he didn’t act soon, his partner would be blown away right in front of him. Walt could be a real douche and Jesse sometimes felt that he was completely disposable in Walt’s eyes. Still, he didn’t deserve to die, even if he was a twat most of the time. Tuco had offered Walt a chance to earn his trust, but Walt, being the stubborn man that he was, had refused the offer. He had too much pride and simply _refused_ to give in and bathe a senior citizen.

Thus, Jesse knew what had to be done. Since Walt wouldn’t comply with the offer he was given, Jesse knew it was time for him to apply himself and take one for the team. If Tuco wanted to kiss him, he was going to get his wish. He took a second to mentally prepare himself for the task.

_I can do this. How bad could it be? I’ll just pretend he’s a chick. A hot one! Like Megan Fox. I’ll pretend he’s Megan Fox. Yeah, that’s it._

“Hey.”

When Tuco turned around, Jesse leaned in, pulled him close and kissed him with tongue, just as requested. Tuco calmed down instantly and savored the moment.

Jesse closed his eyes and did his best to pretend that he had his arms around Megan Fox, or at least a hot MILF like his mom’s friend Sharon. However, that did not change the fact that he was kissing a man. Specifically, a man who had just puked less than a minute ago and who had been about to kill his old chemistry teacher.

Walt’s jaw literally hit the floor. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Jesse, who not two weeks ago had called him a faggot for accidentally brushing against him during one of their cooks, was french kissing their distributor. This went on for exactly five minutes, exactly as he had promised, but not a second more.

Jesse broke away, leaving Tuco standing there smiling giddily to himself. His first non accidental homosexual moment hadn’t been as traumatizing as he had expected (the time he had started getting intimate with a pre op transsexual stripper was way worse) but Walt was going to owe him a big favor for it.

“There! I did it. Are we all cool now?” he inquired. 

Tuco looked at Jesse, then over at Walt. He still didn’t quite trust the bespectacled chemist, but then again, Jesse had just proved that he absolutely could be trusted. Maybe Walt had been telling the truth all along and would be worth keeping around.

“Okay Heisenberg. Truce. Cook for me, and we’ll make a lot of money together.”

“I told you, I’m a very trustworthy person.” Walt began. “I understand you have to be skeptical of new people, but I’m being completely honest with you right now. I did not poison you, nor did I make any attempt to do so. I’m going to take an educated guess and say the reason you are sick is because you ate gas station sushi on the drive up here.”

Tuco reflected upon that fact. Now that he thought about it, it had tasted a bit weird. He made a note to himself to go back to that gas station and stab out the eyes of the person who sold it to him when he felt better.

“You know what makes me feel better when I’m sick? Ice cream. We should go get some.” Jesse suggested.

“Yes! Ice cream! I fucking love ice cream!” Tuco added. “We’re going! But we’ll have to bring some back for my Tio. He’s going to want the pistachio flavor.”

Jesse scrunched up his face in disgust. “Pistachio? That is literally the worst flavor there is. That’s like going to the best steakhouse in America, no, the best in the WORLD, then ordering nothing but a salad and a glass of water. Pistachios are nasty!”

Hector rang his bell in disagreement and gave Jesse a look that said, _You have no idea what you’re missing. Pistachio ice cream was created by God himself._

“Ice cream. Alright then.” Walt let out a defeated sigh. Absolutely nothing was going his way, and he didn’t like it one bit. He wanted control, and he wasn’t getting any of it.

“Now,” he continued, “As much as I’d love to continue this conversation, I could really go for a new set of clothes.”

 

****

 

When Walt emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, Jesse couldn’t help but ridicule his partner. Walt was wearing Jesse’s oversized gangbanger style sweatshirt, which made him look like he was having a hip hop themed mid life crisis.

“You look like the love child of Vanilla Ice and Mr. Rogers!” he laughed. Only Walt could wear gangster clothing and still look like a nerd. Then again, Jesse didn’t expect anything less from a man who regularly sported khaki pants over a pair of tighty whities. 

“Thank you for your incredibly valuable input, Jesse.” Walt dismissed him and moseyed over to Tuco, who was waiting impatiently by the front door.

“Let’s go, Heisenberg! You’re driving.”

“Now hold on a minute,” Walt advised. “The DEA is looking for you, remember? Don’t you think it would be a better idea to lay low for a while? Jesse and I can go get the ice cream, you should probably stay here.”

“I don’t want you to pick a flavor for me! I want to do the build your own thing!” Tuco pouted. “Besides, if someone starts shit, we’ll finish it. You two are going to be my backup.”

He produced the revolver that Jesse had bought the previous night and gave it back to him.

“Uh, that’s great and all, but....I’ve never fired a gun before.” Jesse admitted sheepishly.

“Nor have I.” Walt added. 

Tuco facepalmed and looked at them in disbelief. “How are you two going to make it in this business if you don’t know how to use a gun? The ice cream can wait, you guys need to practice your shooting. NOW.”

He wandered out the front door and beckoned for them to follow, which they did. It was a little past eight at night, so there wasn’t much light left and visibility was limited.

“What are we shooting?” Jesse inquired.

“Doesn’t matter. Whatever you shoot, just try to hit it.” Tuco replied.

Jesse scanned the area for targets. There was an old truck in the yard that probably hadn’t run in fifty years, but he figured that would be too easy. There was also some miscellaneous junk laying around, such as glass bottles, a birdhouse, and a discarded stair master exercise machine that Tuco had used once and never touched again. Eventually his gaze landed upon upon some turkeys that were bustling around the area. Domesticated turkeys were such stupid animals, and their lives had no value to Jesse. They were the biggest morons in the entire animal kingdom.

“Those guys aren’t like, your pets or anything, are they?”

“Nah. Shoot them.”

Jesse disengaged the safety, aimed at the braindead bird, prepared for the recoil and fired. He missed, then missed again on the second shot.

“Son of a bitch. This is a lot harder than it looks.”

“Concentrate, Jesse. Keep your hand steady.” Tuco said.

“Okay turkey. Your days are numbered.” Jesse was determined to kill that bird. He lined up his shot carefully, then put the turkey out of its misery by blowing its head off.

“Yes!” Jesse celebrated and punched the air. “Who else wants some?” he aimed at the next closest turkey and annihilated it with a bullet through the neck. “Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about. I smoked that bitch!”

Walt glanced at him impatiently. “Jesse, are you going to use that last bullet or are you going to let me take a shot?”

Jesse wasn’t listening. He was busy tormenting the remaining turkeys. Tuco ambled over to him, took the gun from him and presented it to Walt.

“There’s one shot left. You better make it count, Heisenberg.”

Walt took the gun from him. The pressure was on. What would happen if he missed? 

He decided to follow Jesse’s lead and shoot one of the turkeys. They apparently weren’t bothered by what had just happened, as none of them had tried to escape the scene.

He aimed at one of the birds and tried to concentrate on his shot. Just as he was about to fire, a very large wasp landed on his hand. The thing was two inches long, and seeing it resting on his hand was enough to make him panic.

“Ah! No, no! Get off!” Walt flinched and flailed around to try and get it off him. All this did was agitate the wasp and cause it to sting him.

“Ow, shit!” the resulting pain lead him to squeeze the trigger while aiming blindly and he accidentally shot Tuco in the head, killing him instantly.

Jesse froze up in horror. “You...you just shot him!” 

“Technically, yes. I shot him. But I didn’t mean to, it was an accident. Don’t blame me.” Walt scoffed.

“How do you accidentally shoot someone in the head?!” Jesse was visibly distraught. He anxiously paced around, ran his hands over his face and looked at Tuco, who was laying motionless on the ground. “Is he dead?”

Walt took a second to do a quick examination. Judging from the pool of blood forming around Tuco’s head, Walt could safely conclude that the man had ceased to be amongst the living. 

“Yes Jesse, he’s dead.”

Jesse suddenly lunged at Walt and punched him in the face, knocking him down and sending his glasses flying.

“Why’d you kill him? He was going to take me to the Star Wars convention next week, you fucking asshole! Not only that, but you just ruined a really good business opportunity! How are we going to move our product if you keep killing our distributors?”

Walt noticed the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. Jesse must have really nailed him hard. Great. Now he’d have to make up a believable lie to feed Skyler about how he had received his injury.

He shielded himself in case Jesse decided to take another swing at him, then began searching for his glasses.

“Calm down, Jesse.” he began.

“Calm down? You just shot my newest friend in the head, and you want me to calm down? No, we are totally fucked! Both of our fingerprints are on that gun, and all over the house. What if his cousins come before we can get rid of the body? And that old guy in there? If he knows that you killed his nephew, he’ll ID us to the cops in a second! That’s it! We’re either going to be murdered by his cousins, or arrested by the DEA and sentenced to life in prison! So, since you have an answer for everything, tell me, why the fuck should I be calm?!” Jesse ranted manically.

“Because,” Walt said cooly, “I know just who to call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize it might be a bit out of character for Jesse to enjoy blowing away the turkeys, but I don't think he'd feel too bad about it. Domesticated turkeys have got to be the stupidest animals to ever walk this earth.
> 
> Also, I originally put the kiss in there purely for the crack factor, but you know how it goes. Now I ship it. I think I'll have to write a Jesse/Tuco fic at some point.


End file.
